


A Repetitive Seesaw Game

by SharkbaitSekki



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Making Out, Relationship Study, Sad, Spoilers, Temporary Character Death, The true ending of P5R as seen through shuake goggles, kind of introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25719430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkbaitSekki/pseuds/SharkbaitSekki
Summary: In the wake of Akechi's loss, Akira tries to grieve, but Akechi's glove remains heavy in his pocket. For the life of him, he cannot let it go.It takes two to play this game, and until the day where Akira can return Goro his glove, neither of them can get off the seesaw before the other.[SPOILERS FOR P5 ROYAL TRUE ENDING]
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 120





	A Repetitive Seesaw Game

**Author's Note:**

> the working title of this document was "i'm still trying to cope with the p5r true ending" and i feel like that says a lot about this fic
> 
> The fic title is a line from the song "Trivia: Seesaw" by BTS. 
> 
> Don't be fooled by how close this sticks to canon- it's 110% self-indulgent because there was a distinctive lack of shuake resolution in Royal, even if the game was... basically about Akechi. There are, however, **MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR THE P5R TRUE ENDING**. Like, some scenes are quoted word-for-word from the game. It's preferable if you already know what happens in the true ending, just because I've left a lot of context implicit, but it can be read without knowledge of the ending too, as long as you don't mind spoilers. 
> 
> so basically, this is a linear collection of important endgame shuake interactions, with 70% more drama added to Akira's usual reactions :^) okay, go go, please enjoy <3

When Goro pointed the gun at him once more, Akira felt no fear.

The first time they’d met at gunpoint like this, in the interrogation room, Akira had felt something like inevitable anxiety as he looked down the barrel of his rival’s gun. Now, though, standing far apart on either side of the water-tight bulkhead, surrounded by friends and foes alike, Akira did not feel afraid. Instead, all he felt was apprehension.

The look in Akechi’s eyes was his tell, but Akira didn’t know what it was trying to tell him. Just this once, he couldn’t manage to see past Goro.

He blinked, and two rapid gunshots rung out, echoing against the steel walls of the engine room. Akira had barely breathed before the alarm rang, and the bulkhead separating them suddenly rose to seal them off from the Shadows ambushing them.

And it left Akechi with them, on the other side, out of Akira’s sight, out of his hands.

“Crow!” the united voices of his teammates rang out in surprise, although Akira couldn’t muster his own voice in conjunction.

The vowels of his rival’s name caught in his throat as he stepped towards the bulkhead, putting his hands on it as if simply willing it would make it disappear.

“Don’t do this,” someone pleaded- maybe Yusuke, or perhaps Makoto. Perhaps even Haru, forgiving Akechi her patricide just long enough to see him live to atone for it. It didn’t seem to be enough, though.

Words wouldn’t be enough, but they were all that Akira had.

“I’ll hold onto your glove,” he said, with his voice as strong and steady as he could muster, unsure if he was able to communicate the strength of his will, the strength of his desire in this moment.

He needed Goro to understand. And with his understanding, he needed him to live.

“Hah,” Akechi scoffed, barely audible across the heavy separation. “After all this, that’s what you have to say? Seriously, you really are…”

He trailed off, for Akira never to find out what he thought of him in his last moments.

Slowly accepting the unalterable reality before him, Akira could only hope that it was something comforting. Before the reaper’s watchful gaze, he felt like the bond between him and Akechi tightened and solidified into something unbreakable.

How regrettable, that this is what it took for the two of them to get there.

“How fitting,” Akechi picked up from the other side, letting out a short, incredulous laugh, “that my final enemy should be a puppet version of myself.”

Akira wanted to yell at him for it, wanted to insist that _he_ was his final challenge, that _they_ were supposed to be one another’s last, wanted to remind him of their promise-

But promises meant nothing to dead men, which is why, in the end, all he could do was cry out for him.

“Akechi!”

There were two simultaneous gunshots on the other side of the bulkhead, and all at once, all went silent. Akira felt his knees go weak. His hands against the steel wall felt cold. And something very real, very tangible inside of him fell apart.

“Goro!”

“His signal… is gone,” Futaba murmured in the oppressive silence that followed. “I’m only… getting the weaklings…”

“No,” Akira insisted immediately, as if wishing something to be untrue would make it so. He had so much conviction, so much faith- so why wasn’t it enough?

Why wasn’t it enough to keep Akechi alive?

“Goro!” he called again, thumping his fist uselessly against the bulkhead. “Get up!”

“Joker,” Morgana called out sadly, truly seeming sympathetic to his sorrow. “We… we should go. We have to stop Shido once and for all… We can’t let his rotten heart hurt any more people!”

“No, we can’t go,” Akira insisted, eyes riveted on the door, across which Akechi had been standing only seconds ago. “We can’t leave him here.”

“He’s gone, Joker…” Ann reiterated, her voice shaking. “Akechi-kun, he’s… he’s gone.”

“That’s not true!” He refused to believe it, even though he knew it to be true. He banged on the door once more. “It’s not over… we’re not done, Akechi!”

“Hey, calm down.” Surprisingly, it was Ryuji that put a hand on his shoulder, keeping a level head in his stead just this once. “I’m sorry, man… All we can do for him now is to go tear down that bastard Shido’s Palace and make him confess. That’s what he wanted the most, after all.”

It wasn’t what Akechi wanted most. Akira knew, from long evenings spent together, hushed conversations over coffee, tired smiles and tired eyes that Akechi confided in him, trusting him not to share with the world. Most of all, his innermost desire, that which Akechi had confessed to Akira with his own mouth-

“I need you,” Akira whispered to the door, laying his forehead down against the cool steel as strength left him. “Isn’t that what you wanted most?”

Foolish of him to say it now. Dead men have no desires. There was no answer.

“Let’s go,” Makoto decided, throwing the bulkhead one last glance before turning to head off. “Let’s go get Shido and give him what he deserves.”

“Right.”

One by one, the Phantom Thieves turned, away from the door and towards the future that beckoned them forward.

“We have to keep going,” Morgana reminded Akira when he was the last one left, and threw him one last glance before heading off to the others.

“I know,” Akira answered after Morgana was long gone, lips near the bulkhead, letting the cold steel drain the oncoming headache from him. “Goro. You better deliver on that promise. I’ll wait.”

There was no answer, of course, but Akira wanted to believe that Akechi had listened anyway. It was that conviction that gave him the strength to pull away, and drag his heavy feet away from the only friend he’d ever let down.

Outside the engine room, the Phantom Thieves were quietly murmuring to one another, respectfully waiting for their leader to return and guide them forward once more. Futaba was leaning against Ann, goggles off and wiping big, genuine tears out of her eyes.

Akira didn’t look her way, but he was grateful that someone was shedding tears in Goro Akechi’s memory. And wherever he was, he hoped that Akechi knew- those tears were shed on his behalf as well.

…-…-…-…

The Christmas miracle was Akechi showing up to take the fall for Akira- again. As if one death had not been enough.

He was there for so little time that Akira was partly convinced he was only just a wishful dream.

The glove in his pocket weighed down heavily, though, nearly burning as he slowly made his way back home. Akira clung onto that feeling with all his might, with all his heart.

It was the only proof he had that he hadn’t just hallucinated Goro Akechi out of heartbroken desperation.

…-…-…-…

Akechi refused to give him answers and Akira didn’t push. Although his curiosity was nearly unbearable, he didn’t push Akechi to explain how he’d survived the engine room and the subsequent collapse of Shido’s Palace. Part of him was afraid to ask and unearth an answer that was unsatisfying, so he let Akechi keep his secrets, instead focusing on the present and the path ahead of him. Maruki’s deadline was still on the horizon, and Akira had no intention of giving in to him. This world belonged to them- all of them together, free to make their own choices. And now, with Akechi back at his side, he had nothing to lose in this fight, regardless of how it all even came to pass in the first place.

Akechi was here with him, still standing and still fighting. It was enough for now.

It was enough to take him out again, to stroll the alleys of Kichijoji in his company and have pointless debates that would never amount to anything, just for the mental exercise. It was enough for now to sit down in a café once more, playing a game of chess with Akira as the black king and Akechi as the white, the way things had always been between them- exchanging checkmates in the eternal stalemate between Wildcards. It was enough to sit down at Jazz Jin together, sipping their ridiculously colourful cocktails and enjoying the live music in absolute silence- for although their relationship was built on words, sometimes it was the lack of words that made one another’s company golden.

It was enough to take him out for darts, watching him strike his adorably stiff left-forward posture and hit three in the black- 701 would be a lot easier if Akira didn’t have to feel Akechi’s eyes on him with every throw. He couldn’t complain, though. Those same eyes were on him when he performed a flawless massé shot to end the game on their next group night at Penguin Sniper, and amidst all the enthusiastic praise from his impressed teammates, Akira only felt Akechi’s gaze on him, calculating, thinking.

“Wanna go again, Akechi?” he simply asked, thrusting the cue towards him. And Akechi glanced between his eyes and his hands for another moment before a gentle smile bloomed on his burdened expression, making Akira’s heart flutter.

“Of course.” Accepting the cue, Akechi placed his hand right next to Akira’s. Their pinkies brushed, and it felt like fire- the contact setting Akira’s spirit ablaze once again, the spark of the challenging bursting into life inside of him like it always did when he was with Akechi.

There was no happier reality than the one in which he and Goro continuously pushed each other back and forth through their tumultuous relationship. Akira saw no future without him on the other end of the seesaw.

“Alright, let’s go again!” Ryuji cheered loudly, enthusiastically grabbing the pool balls to rearrange them. The others also clamoured loudly in agreement, and Akira let go of the cue for Akechi to start them off this time.

His eyes never left his.

Akira would go again, a dozen times, a hundred times, any number of times it took to keep Goro Akechi at his side forever.

…-…-…-…

The metaphysical bond between them strained sometimes. It was simply the nature of their back-and-forth relationship, to always be fluid, giving and taking and changing for better or for worse. Nobody kept Akira on his toes like Akechi did, and whatever he felt for his rival never had a name- only a feeling.

Sometimes, it kept Akira up at night. Morgana fell asleep easily, leaving Akira to his own thoughts, which more often than not came circling right back to the mystery of Goro Akechi’s miraculous rise from the dead. At those times, something dark and terrifying would dig its claws into Akira’s gut, pulling and demanding answers.

He never sent the texts he typed up to Akechi. Even in the dead of the night, when his heart was at its rawest and its most vulnerable, he still resisted asking, afraid of the answer.

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]:** What is the price we paid for your return?

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]:** Where will you go when this is all over?

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]:** What are you hiding from me?

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]:** Why won’t you let me help you?

And when it hurt the most, when the unknowns of this brand new world really sank the stakes of doubt in Akira’s heart, he wondered if his happiness was also exclusive to Maruki’s idyllic reality.

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]**: I need you.

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]**: I always will.

He never sent the texts he typed to Akechi.

…-…-…-…

Takuto Maruki came on February 2nd, and with him came the difficult truth.

Ironic that it had to come from the mouth of the enemy rather than from Akira's own soulmate.

“Didn’t you regret how things ended with him?" Maruki asked, and Akira’s heart jumped in his throat. “That’s why… I created a reality where you two could have a fresh start together,” he explained, and suddenly, it felt like betrayal.

Akechi had betrayed him again.

None of his happiness had been real.

“You knew,” he said to Akechi, who had the decency to look away. He didn’t know if he was asking or accusing, but it didn’t matter. Akechi had known. Akechi had known from the start that he wouldn’t be able to live beyond this reality, and yet, he still fought to tear it down.

There was something both tragic and poetic about this sacrifice that Akira just couldn’t place. He hated it.

“I had a feeling the truth of the matter still wouldn’t dissuade you, Akechi-kun,” Maruki sighed, turning to Akira. “But what about you, Kurusu-kun?”

Akira’s mouth went dry. It wasn’t a question he was ready to answer, not when Akechi’s eyes were on him like that. Fuming. Expectant.

“’You think dangling my life before us is going to affect our decision?’ That’s what Akechi-kun said a moment ago,” Maruki continued, and Akira hoped he wasn’t being transparent about the conflict in his head. “But I’m still going to ask you, one last time: Will you accept the reality I create for you?”

A month ago, he’d rejected the same proposition like second nature. He was a Phantom Thief, fighting against misuse of power and self-made gods, so it had been nearly instinctive to reject submission to this all-controlling deity.

But now… Now, things were different. Akira glanced at Akechi’s determined expression, and he realized in that moment that he wouldn’t survive losing him again.

He wouldn’t survive losing Goro Akechi once more. 

Perhaps he’d been too transparent about it in his eyes, for at the same time, Goro’s expression tightened in anger, and Maruki’s softened in understanding.

“I’ve heard your calling,” he acknowledged, picking up the calling card Akira mechanically slid over to him. “But if you don’t show, I’ll take that to mean you’ve accepted my reality.”

With that ultimatum, he left, sparing Akira a small mercy. Even when he left, Akira found it difficult to breathe.

“I will carve my own path for myself,” Akechi said to him once they were truly alone together, lips pursed tight, and Akira understood. Worst of all, he understood why Akechi would make that choice, and it was infuriating. “I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.”

Akechi had always been too intelligent and too cautious for his own good.

Even now, even when he weighed happiness against the truth, he still didn’t falter, and perhaps that meant that he would always be stronger than Akira.

Akira, who, in this moment, looking into Akechi’s fierce eyes, felt his resolve crumble.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go into battle, claiming to fight for his righteous justice and morals, knowing he would be sacrificing a teammate for it in the end.

There was no righteousness in death, but there was no solution in life. Akira wished he could start everything all over again and solve everything before the ultimatum became set in stone.

“This isn’t small potatoes, Akechi,” he insisted, perhaps not as harshly as he intended. Perhaps it was in that weakness that Akechi found the strength to continue.

“It is!” he yelled, his determination booming across the empty café. “Do you think I’d be happy with this? Being shown mercy now, of all times?” Akechi and his stupid pride, his stupid incorrigible pride that made him the man that Akira wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “I don’t want to be pitied- this isn’t something I’m debating with you!”

Akira had nothing to say to that, because he was right. But, did that mean that Akira was wrong for wanting him to live?

“Your indecisiveness on the matter is essentially a betrayal of my wishes,” Goro finally concluded, his voice raspy and low.

“And what about my wishes?” Akira retorted all of a sudden, something passionate suddenly rising up in his throat, making it difficult for him to speak. “Do you think I want to lose you again?”

“Whether I live or die isn’t your choice to make!” Akechi insisted, crossing his arms. “That was decided long ago- and it turned out the way it always should’ve.”

“Why do you do that?” Akira asked, frustrated that Akechi wouldn’t meet his gaze. For all his supposed conviction, he couldn’t even face him, and Akira was taken by the sudden urge to punch him. “Why do you give up on your own life so easily?”

“You understand nothing of my life,” Akechi accused venomously, standing straight to square up to Akira. “You understand nothing of how I feel and what I want!”

“Because you won’t tell me!”

“I don’t owe you a damn thing!” Akechi retorted angrily, fists clenched as Akira stepped up to him, close, so close they almost touched. “You’re always sticking your nose into other people’s business… Damn it, why are you so terrible at respecting other people’s privacy?”

“Your privacy’s going to get you killed,” Akira seethed, feeling his chest tighten. He and Akechi were the same height, so like this, they really saw eye-to-eye, without seeing eye-to-eye at all. 

“I’m already dead!”

That seemed to be the last straw. With a growl of frustration, Akechi put both his hands on Akira’s chest and shoved. The contact between them was brief but electric, so that when Akira stumbled back, away from Akechi, he suddenly felt like something new had sparked inside of him.

He was livid.

“I’ve lived my entire life under other people’s control!” Akechi yelled at him, uncaring if the entire world heard him now. “Dying was the only choice I’ve ever made for myself, so why? Why would you take that away from me!?”

It hurt. It hurt like hell to listen to him, and the tears that sprung in Akira’s eyes were both of rage and sorrow. He belatedly realized that he had already begun mourning Goro once again.

“Because I need you,” he admitted, stepping back up towards him. Akechi stepped back. “Goro, I need you here, with me.”

“Bullshit,” Akechi accused, predictably. “You don’t need me. There’s nothing I could give you that you don’t already have. Nobody needs me in this world, and I’ve known that for a long time.”

“I need you!” Akira insisted, having no other words to convey what he felt. His heart was bursting full of emotions for Goro, but there were no words to describe the amalgamation of feelings that made him want to fight for him in this moment. He stepped forward. Goro stepped back. “I didn’t realize it until you were gone, and that’s on me, but I’m telling you now- Goro Akechi, there’s nobody I want by my side in this life more than I want you.”

“Then save it for my memory,” Akechi hissed, stepping back when Akira stepped forward again. “You’re deluded.”

Step forward, step back. See-saw.

“Why can’t I save you?” Akira asked, not expecting an answer that didn’t exist. Step forward. Step back.

“You’re a narcissist with a messiah complex,” Akechi retorted harshly. “I don’t need saving.”

“I know.” He and Goro were two sides of the same coin. Of course he understood in the end, even though he hated the outcome. Step forward. Step back. Akechi’s back hit the wall. There was nowhere for either of them to go from here.

“Then make your choice now,” Akechi finally said, glancing up at Akira, close, so close. “I’m tired of waiting. Tell me now.”

Akira opened his mouth, trying to find the best way to express the thunderstorm in his heart and the hurricane in his brain, only to realize that no words applied to the decision he’d made.

And this was his conviction. This was his resolve. Goro would understand it without it being spelled out for him.

Grabbing Goro’s chin with his hand, he tilted his head forward and slammed into him with a kiss.

Akechi’s head hit the wall harshly, the thud of bone against wood reverberating across the café as Akira nearly bit into him. Never to be outdone, Goro replied just as harshly, hands twisting into the lapels of his cardigan to pull him flush against him. There was no hesitation in the way the two of them nearly devoured one another, lips smacking and teeth clacking. Akira tangled his hands in Goro’s long hair and pulled, and in response, Goro pushed him away. See-saw. This-that. They never broke away from each other.

Eventually breathless, Akira ran his tongue against Goro’s teeth, and Goro leaned away for respite, instead spinning Akira around by his clothes and slamming him into the counter, nearly catching his head on the bright yellow phone. Akira’s head was pushed down to hit the wood awkwardly but he had no time to think of it, because Goro was back in his mouth, gasps escaping him when they separated momentarily between kisses. When he rose for breath, Akira chased him, only to be held down by his hair, the tug of Akechi’s rough grip delicious and painful.

No words were wasted between them. It was much too hot for Akechi to be doing this in his stupid-looking mustard yellow peacoat, but Akira couldn’t imagine taking the time to remove it. Instead, as Akechi dove in for the next round of violent kisses, he slipped his hands under the coat and around Goro’s waist, fumbling to tug his shirt out of his pants. He must’ve tickled him, for Goro smacked one of his hands before biting his lip in reprimand, although it only made Akira want to push him further. See-saw. Back and forth. He slipped his hands under all his clothes and dug his nails into Akechi’s hot skin until he was sure it hurt.

If Sojiro ever found out what Akira and Goro were doing on his counter, he would probably blow a fuse.

There was nothing tender about their kisses, but nothing violent either. The aggression they exchanged was all emotion, desperation and understanding and frustration. Anger that the fates were never kind to people like them. Sorrow that the only right resolution was the most unsatisfying one. And passion, passion unrivaled between them, because this was the challenge that Goro had issued to Akira that day in Mementos together. This was the glove burning a hole through Akira’s pocket. This was the duel that Goro had promised him, and it seemed there was no resolution to it.

They exchanged places a few times until both of their lips were equally swollen and bruised, until there were tender red claw marks on Akechi’s lower back and blood on Akira’s split lip. And as suddenly as the emotion came, it was gone. Eventually left holding onto each other in silence, Akira’s fingers twisted in Goro’s belt loops and the latter’s hands cradling Akira’s face, they finally came to an understanding. When Akira leaned his forehead down, Goro met him halfway, eyes closed, warm skin against skin and breathing softly against each other’s lips. Goro’s thumbs traced slow circles on Akira’s cheekbones, soft and gentle like nothing else on this earth.

That was when the first tears sprung to Akira’s eyes, when all was said and done, and only the ending remained.

Slowly, he drew his hands away from Akechi’s waist and brought them up, up, up until he could snake his elbows around Goro’s neck, letting his arms hang off his shoulders. The weight of it was grounding, and Goro swayed in place, dragging Akira into the gentle rhythm of a slow dance in silence. When Akira was sure Goro wouldn’t pull away, he leaned in, unhurried this time, taking his time to bridge the gap and leaving a single kiss on his flushed lips. He lingered this time, not because he craved for more, but because he was afraid of pulling away.

This was their goodbye.

And it hurt so much more than Akira thought it would. He left his mouth on Goro’s, just to make it last, just to feel him there for as long as he could.

Eventually, however, it was time to pull away, and Goro was the one who pulled away from him first.

This was his goodbye too, after all.

“So that’s the choice you’ve made,” he rasped, voice broken and throat dry, pulling away from Akira until there was a few feet between them, and turning around as not to meet his eyes. It was for the best. If Akira had to look at him again, he felt like he would cry, too. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah.” There was nothing else that Akira had to say to him. He just wanted Goro to leave.

Wordlessly accepting the continuity of things between them, Goro adjusted his disheveled appearance, and stepped towards the door. The chime tingled when he pulled it open, letting in a draft of cold air and gentle snowflakes.

“Good night, Goro,” Akira simply murmured, watching his other half pause in the entrance, as if debating his next action.

There was nothing to debate anymore, however. Goro had made his choice, and in turn, so had Akira.

“Good night.”

As easily as he’d slipped back into Akira’s life, Goro Akechi left.

…-…-…-…

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]:** I didn’t lie when I said I needed you.

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]:** I hope you’ll go with that in mind.

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]:** I hope that you’ll remember me.

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]:** I’ll always remember you.

He never sent the texts he typed to Akechi.

If Morgana heard the pathetic sniffles that escaped him unbidden that night, he didn’t comment.

…-…-…-…

Squished in the backseat of the Mona car as Maruki’s Palace began to crumble around them, perhaps Akira intended to hold onto Goro tightly until his fingers hurt. And perhaps Goro intended to hold onto his just as tightly, claws digging into Akira’s skin to let the pain linger, even as nothing else did.

When Akira let him go to pursue Maruki, he knew he was letting go for good.

…-…-…-…

When he slept next, the Velvet Room opened up before him, his cell door long-since gone, but his heart still taking the shape of a prison. Igor welcomed him as always, and Lavenza congratulated him on returning the control of reality to the humans that inhabited it. It didn’t feel like anything deserving congratulations, and perhaps Lavenza saw it on his face the moment he stepped in.

“You’ve made a very difficult choice to get here,” she acknowledged sadly, watching as, free in the confines of his own heart, Akira’s face twisted into grief. “Have your regrets already begun?”

And Akira should have said no, should have looked forward as unwaveringly as he’d kissed Goro, should have stood strong, tall, and proud for having advocated for humanity’s freedom of choice.

But no words came. And just as he had needed no words to explain his choice to Goro, he also didn’t need words to give Lavenza her answer.

He covered his face with his hands in the absence of a mask to keep him safe, and his answer was in the loud, heartbroken sobs that he finally allowed himself to release, raw and unfiltered because this part of him he would never have been able to hide from himself.

Waking with heavy eyes but no tears shed made the morning so much more difficult. This was the world he’d fought for- so why wasn’t it the world that made him happy? He knew that he had to adjust to a reality without Goro, although it seemed that the world was not ready to let him forget it. Or perhaps he wouldn’t let himself forget it.

When he did his laundry the day after reality had shifted back into its rightful place, he found Goro’s glove in his pocket, and realized he’d never given it back to him.

Their duel had never been resolved.

Their promise still hadn’t been fulfilled.

And maybe Akira was stupid for mourning the same dead man he’d mourned in December, but he’d rather feel stupid than feel empty.

The glove was back in his pocket when he went to school the next day, the day after that, and the day after that.

It was in his pocket when March 19th rolled around, bringing with it another goodbye- that of his life in Tokyo. It was definitely a bittersweet moment, and Akira cherished each moment he spent with his confidants and friends around Tokyo on his last day. Knowing that the Phantom Thieves were breaking up and heading their separate ways was perhaps what made his heart so heavy that day, going around and creating last-minute precious memories with the boys and girls who’d become his family throughout the last year. They’d promised to meet again, but like all promises, there was no air of finality to it.

By the late evening, Akira had finished seeing all of the people that were waiting for him around Tokyo. His bag was full of souvenirs and mementos of them, and his heart was full of hope and sorrow at leaving them behind.

“It’s getting dark,” Morgana noted as they stepped out of Untouchable with Iwai’s fond parting words resonating in the air. “We should go back home and prepare for tomorrow. You’ll have to be at the train station pretty early, you know.”

“Yeah…” Glancing up at the cloudless sky, Akira marveled at the crimson sun that flooded Central Street with a warm light. People walked by around him, hurried and unworried, uncaring of the turmoil in Akira’s heart and expression. This was it. This was his goodbye.

But something was still missing. His goodbye wasn’t complete yet.

“There’s one more place I need to go,” he said all of a sudden, turning on his heel to head for Shibuya station. “One more person I have to say goodbye to.”

“Huh?” Morgana was understandably confused, frowning as he put his paws on Akira’s shoulder to see where they were going “I thought that was everyone, though. Who else do you need to see?”

Akira didn’t reply, and Morgana must have understood that he didn’t want to elaborate. Akira was grateful for it. He couldn’t bring himself to say his name anyway, not when the simple memory of him drove a stake through Akira’s heavy heart.

When Akira stepped out at Kichijoji station, Morgana must finally have understood, for he threw him a sad look before curling up in his bag in silence, leaving him to his thoughts. Akira was more grateful to him than he could express in that moment. This goodbye was something he needed to do alone.

The streets of Kichijoji were predictably unchanged. The line at the fried food stand was still ridiculously long, and the bars of Harmony alley were slowly starting to set up for the night. Storefronts remained illuminated, standing out brightly against the dusk that began falling across the city. There were people on the terrace of _Miel et Crêpes_ café, two old gentlemen sitting face to face and playing a tense-looking game of chess with focused, but mirthful regard for one another. Akira spared them a glance, but when one of them declared a joyful checkmate, he moved on.

It hurt.

The promenade extended forever, which was for the best, for when Akira walked into the commercial street, his eyes immediately went to Penguin Sniper, half-expecting to find someone waiting for him there.

There was no one.

People bypassed the entrance of the upstairs bar, and past the crowd, there was nobody waiting for him at the entrance. Akira approached nonetheless, as if hoping that each step would bring him closer to some kind of miracle.

There was no miracle. When Akira halted in front of the billiards bar entrance, he only stared at a blank stone wall. There was nobody waiting to chastise him for wasting his time, nobody making fun of him for wanting to spend the evening together. Nobody was there to promise him a conversation at a later time. Nobody was there to invite him out- to darts, to billiards, to the jazz club, to a café, to a Palace. Nobody was there to follow him home for a cup of unparalleled Leblanc coffee and the heart-to-heart that inevitably ensued.

There was no one left here for Akira, and knowing that hurt more than anything else.

He turned around without another word, unable to bear the sight of the empty space any longer. There was a hole shaped like someone precious to him there, and like a Treasure that hadn’t materialized yet, if Akira squinted, he could see the haze of his shape in the place where he belonged.

He didn’t want to face him anymore. It was all just too much.

His feet slowly started to take him back. Kichijoji was where some of his fondest memories had taken place, so he took the time to bask in the sights, sounds and smells of the trendy neighbourhood. Every alley he traversed carried with it a memory.

And though he already felt like he’d said goodbye, he couldn’t help but let the masochistic part of him guide him towards Jazz Jin, stopping across from the bar to remember what it was like the first time he was invited there. There was faint music wafting up from the staircase, not live, but still familiar enough to drive tears into Akira’s eyes once again. There were so many conversation he’d had to the sound of the same song that hearing it made him sorrowful all over again.

He was about to head off when a man at the entrance turned around, spotting him and waving him over.

“Hey!” Akira took a moment to recognize him as the owner of the jazz club- Muhen- approaching the man who grinned in greeting. “Good evening. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you at the club. You’re the kid who’s always here with Akechi-kun, right?”

Ah, there it was. The name that Akira had tried not to think all this time. It was just as painful as he had imagined it to be.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he rasped out softly, not knowing what else to say. The owner recognizing him only pointed to how frequently he’d taken Goro out at this bar for an evening together, alone.

“Say, do you know where Akechi-kun is?” Muhen asked lightly, missing how Akira’s eyes widened momentarily in shock at his question. “He used to come fairly frequently, but I haven’t seen him in a darn long time. A kid his age should really not be working that hard, you know.” Akira had no response to that, but thankfully, the man seemed undeterred. “Anyway. If you see him around, let him know to swing by sometime. He’s always welcome here!”

And Akira realized that this is how Goro Akechi would disappear- fading away from existence by falling out of the cognition of all that knew him, one by one until nobody remembered who he was anymore.

For a boy who had only wanted to be needed, it was the cruelest end.

The glove that was a permanent fixture in Akira’s pocket suddenly weighed a hundred tons, freezing him in place. Muhen was glancing at him expectantly, waiting for the promise that Akira could not make.

“I’ll tell him when I see him,” he finally bit out, shoving his hands in his pockets, gripping Akechi’s glove so tight that his knuckles ached. His heart ached. His head ached.

He just wanted it all to be over.

“Appreciate it.” Muhen seemed satisfied with his answer, and waved him off. “You’re welcome here, too, if you wanna swing by!”

And Akira knew he wouldn’t, because this was something he’d shared with Akechi, and only him. He couldn’t show up there anymore, lest he sit by himself at a table and wait for a ghost to join him.

This was how Goro would disappear from this world.

The realization was so heavy that Akira took a step back, stammering a goodbye to Muhen and stumbling away. At first, he walked, and when the emotions began to fill his heart to the brim, he ran. No amount of aching in his limbs freed him from the squeeze in his chest, and no amount of protesting from Morgana made him want to slow down. He wanted to run, run away from this world he’d chosen, run away from the ghosts of all his regrets that would haunt him forevermore.

Breathless, he finally doubled over in one of Kichijoji’s quieter alleys, and tried to catch his breath. Morgana popped his head out of his bag and probably said something, but Akira couldn’t hear him past the rush of blood pounding in his ears.

Sliding down against the closed shutter of a nighttime stall, Akira buried his face in his hands and shook himself apart at the seams.

Around him, time continued forward, the world continued to turn, and slowly but surely, Goro Akechi’s existence began to fade from the memories of its inhabitants. The seesaw stood still, no opposing force to motivate its back and forth any longer.

The world that he’d helped fight for would never remember him, and all that he’d left behind was a glove, and a promise unfulfilled.

…-…-…-…

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]**: Muhen-san said you’re always welcome at Jazz Jin.

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]**: Promised him I’d tell you when we met next, but…

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]**: I feel like we won’t be meeting again for a long time.

 **Akira [ _Draft_ ]**: I hope you’re where you want to be, Goro.

He fell asleep that night with his thumb off the send button.

…-…-…-…

The next morning, it was with a surprisingly light heart that Akira said goodbye to his friends and to Maruki in front of the station, and he was glad for the opportunity to say goodbye to Sumire on the platform as well. It really seemed like everyone was determined to make this separation a memorable one, so by the time Akira boarded the train back home, he felt hopeful for the future. The sky was absolutely cloudless, promising an enjoyable ride for the next few hours.

“Here we go!” Morgana cheered, perhaps a bit too loudly for a pet he technically wasn’t supposed to have on board with him. “It’s all brand new horizons from here on out, Akira! We’re gonna have to work really hard so that the next time we meet everybody, we’ll have the coolest stories to tell.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Akira assured him, petting his forehead softly to calm him down and avoid the pointed looks from the other customers around them. “Now, take a nap. I’ll wake you up when it’s snack time.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Morgana hummed, pleased with the promise of snacks and therefore eagerly retreating into Akira’s bag on the empty seat next to him for a quick nap in the sun.

As Morgana settled, Akira turned his gaze out of the window next to him, giving Tokyo one last glance. The station was as he’d remembered it from when he first arrived a year ago, and seeing this familiar scenery was a satisfying way to loop his adventure closed. He was leaving a lot behind in Tokyo, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

He only had the future to look forward to from here on out.

A buzz from his phone grabbed his attention, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned his eyes away from the window to check the notification, curious, but didn’t quite manage to read the text before something very distinctively tan in colour swept by him outside on the platform.

The words blurred in front of Akira’s eyes, and when his heart was done skipping a beat, his head shot up, trying to find the person that had caught his attention almost instinctively, almost as if his soul had recognized them nearby even when his senses hadn’t.

There was no one familiar on the platform, though, and the train set forward at that moment, onward, away from Tokyo. Away from the person that he’d recognized with his entire being. They were headed in opposite directions for now.

See-saw. Back and forth.

Whatever traveled in opposing directions would eventually have to meet again on the other side.

And Akira just smiled, feeling lighter than he’d ever felt before. His heart was full of airy emotions that made him feel like he could float straight into the vast blue sky stretching endlessly above their heads.

He picked up his phone, and opened up the first conversation at the top of his app.

He deleted all the unsaid regrets he’d never send, and then typed the only thing he had left to say.

 **Akira** : This is the world we fought for.

 **Akira** : It’s the world we chose for you and me.

 **Akira** : Do you like it?

Akira sent his texts and then shut off his phone. He didn’t expect a response, nor was there a rush to receive one, if ever. Like gravity and natural order, the seesaw would have to tilt again one day. Back and forth as it had always been between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Was Akira OOC? Maybe. Do I regret it? Hell no. Someone needs to cry for Akechi in this game, seriously. He may not be a fucking saint but he's still such a tragic character. Why won't anybody mourn him proper?
> 
> Okay, so my Royal endgame was basically me physically shedding tears any time Akechi was mentioned. First, Lavenza asks me if I regret defeating Maruki and I'm already in tears, and then the jazz jin dude goes on his "tell akechi he should visit!!" monologue and I LOST IT. God, I've never been so heartbroken by a true ending and so allured by a happy(?) false ending in my entire gaming experience. Usually I'm 100% on the true ending side, but with Royal... did y'all see the ending card of Akechi and Akira playing chess in the false ending credits? I gave myself a headache crying about them, I'm not kidding. 
> 
> And the glove. The mf glove. I'm not over it yet. Goro's confidant link was an actual blessing to this earth. 
> 
> Anyway, that's that. Spread the Goro love. I want to write so much more Shuake but I dunno where to start ;; Thanks for reading this quick fic and I'd really love to hear your thought/likes/criticism! I'm trying to get back into the rhythm of writing for P5 so all feedback is welcome on any platform!!
> 
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>   
> -Cin


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